


Support

by Trobadora



Series: Miracle [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Torchwood
Genre: Episode: s04e13 Journey's End, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-28
Updated: 2011-01-28
Packaged: 2017-10-15 04:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trobadora/pseuds/Trobadora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-<i>Journey's End</i>, it's the Doctor's turn to grieve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Support

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Porn Battle XI](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/472424.html) and the prompt "Jack Harkness/Ten, grief".

"Turn off the alarm," Jack says. He doesn't turn his head.

It takes a moment for Ianto to follow the instruction; like Jack's and Gwen's, his eyes are fixed on the blue box that has materialised in the middle of the Hub.

"Jack?" Gwen asks.

"I don't know." _Hopefully not another crisis._ They've just brought the Earth back into its own solar system; the damage done by the invading Daleks hasn't even been completely cleared here in the Hub. Jack shudders inwardly, remembering how close he's come to ...

He holds out his arms, pulling Ianto and Gwen to him. Gwen leans into him easily; Ianto is more tense. Jack squeezes Ianto's hip, runs a thumb along the waistline of his trousers until Ianto relaxes.

Then the TARDIS door opens, and there he is: the Doctor, looking just like the last time Jack saw him, brown suit, coat and all. It can't have been long for him either; a brief glance at Jack's vortex manipulator has already confirmed they're in temporal synch. But the Doctor's face is drawn; there are tense lines around and rings under his eyes; and the corners of his mouth are turned down. His eyes burn with frustration and fury.

Something inside Jack clenches. This can only mean one thing. _Not good. Not good at all._

And when exactly did he learn to read the Doctor this well?

The Doctor doesn't come into the Hub, just stands there in the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. Even through the layers of clothing there's no doubt that every muscle in his body is tense. After a moment he says, "Jack. Come on." Just that. It's an order, not an invite. Jack might have balked at that, but the Doctor's expression quells any such instinct.

Jack can read that expression too well. But he doesn't move; instead he tightens his arms around Ianto and Gwen.

The Doctor sneers at him and turns on his heel, walking back into the TARDIS control room. The door is left standing open.

Jack lets go of Ianto and Gwen. They don't step away, though. They stand close, and for a long moment no one moves.

Finally, Ianto sighs. Jack turns to him, kisses his temple.

Ianto grimaces and straightens his spine, reluctantly separating from Jack. "You'd better go."

Jack pulls Ianto in for a kiss, and after a moment Ianto relaxes against him again. "I'd better go," he agrees, quietly. "Be back soon."

For the first time he's doing this in plain sight, meeting the Doctor. It's not quite normal yet, not for any of them, but it's another step. It matters.

With a last smile for Ianto and Gwen both, he turns and walks towards the open door. When he reaches it, he looks back. Ianto and Gwen have moved towards each other, closing the space he's left between them. Their arms are around each other, giving support.

~*~

Jack closes the TARDIS door behind him with a soft click. The Doctor stands beside the console, looking sullen, his shoulders hunched, his hands hidden in his pockets. Jack doesn't need to guess that they're clenched into fists. Tension radiates from him, and he seems utterly disinclined to break the silence.

Up to Jack, then.

"Doctor."

The Doctor says nothing.

Jack makes a show of looking around the empty control room. "Let me guess," he finally says, "you took Rose and Jackie back to the other universe before the walls closed, and your double went with them. Mickey and Martha went with me, of course. So that leaves Donna."

The Doctor looks away.

"I'm sorry," Jack offers quietly.

"You don't know anything," the Doctor says, huffily. "For all you know, she could be asleep in her room right here in the TARDIS."

Jack takes a step closer. "I know _you_."

The Doctor rubs a tired hand across his face. "The metacrisis," he mumbles. "Human brains aren't made for that, you know. Overload. Nothing I could do ... nothing, except take it all away. Everything."

"Everything."

The Doctor nods. "Everything," he repeats. "I took it all; there's nothing left. Nothing, from all the time we were ... Nothing, from everything she did out there. She never wanted to leave, and now she won't even remember. Mustn't remember. She's ..." He shakes his head. "I had to," he says bleakly. "She was dying." Jack can see the grief burning in his eyes.

Jack reaches out a hand, brushes it along the Doctor's shoulder. He turns his face away.

"I shouldn't have come," the Doctor says. He steps away from Jack, his eyes everywhere but on him. "This was a mistake; sorry; really bad idea. Go away." It's the Doctor's most dismissive, supercilious tone. In Jack's mind, another sentence echoes: _Busy life, moving on._

Like hell.

He grins his most impertinent grin in reply. "Nope," he says, popping the "p" outrageously.

The Doctor's eyes narrow, and his nose scrunches. "Go!"

Jack almost snorts. Very deliberately he moves closer, fully into the Doctor's personal space. "No way."

"Yes way!" The Doctor pushes Jack back harshly. And because Jack knows exactly how the Doctor feels, he shoves right back. For a moment they glare at each other; then Jack hooks a boot around the Doctor's calf and applies leverage. The Doctor's hands shoot out, gripping the lapels of Jack's greatcoat.

They crash to the floor. Jack lands on top, his heavy coat pooling around them. His hands close around the Doctor's arms, holding him down. The Doctor struggles, but doesn't use even half his considerable strength.

Right. Like this, then. Jack's mouth crashes down on the Doctor's. Sweeping his tongue across teeth, around the Doctor's tongue, pushing in deep. Plundering that cool, familiar mouth.

The floor grating is hard and unforgiving beneath them. It doesn't matter.

"Stop it," the Doctor hisses when Jack comes up for air. But his hips surge against Jack's, and his mouth opens to Jack's tongue again, and he struggles only just enough to not actually stop anything.

Jack lets go of the Doctor's arms and shifts over a little, unbuttoning first the Doctor's trousers, then his own. They're both hard. The Doctor's hands come up, digging painfully into his shoulders. Jack pays it no mind. He pulls out the Doctor's cock and squeezes.

The Doctor squirms away from the touch, then arches into it. A frustrated growl comes from his mouth. He leans up, open-mouthed, and bites down on Jack's shoulder beneath his coat. Jack groans, braces himself above the Doctor and thrusts down. Their cocks rub against each other, and the Doctor lets out a sobbing moan. The sound shatters Jack's control into tiny pieces.

The Doctor's face is raw and open and needy beneath him as he thrusts - thrusts - thrusts -

This is artless and rough, and exactly what the Doctor has come here for.

The Doctor came here, to him, for this.

A bubble of warmth expands in Jack's chest. He bites a kiss against the Doctor's chin, is rewarded with a hand tearing at his hair. It isn't long until they both come.

~*~

Afterwards, Jack is slumped on top of the Doctor. The Doctor sighs, then shoves at him. Gently, this time. Jack sits up, looking down at him. They're both a mess. Fully dressed, trousers open, come on their rumpled clothes. The Doctor follows suit and rubs a hand across his face. "Sorry," he mutters.

Just like the Doctor, to act as if needing someone was something to be apologised for.

There's nothing to make up for. The Doctor came here for Jack, came here for support. Willing to let Jack shore him up. Jack feels full to the bursting, and it's all joy.

But that's not what the Doctor needs to hear right now.

Jack leans back against the wall. He grins, raking his eyes over the Doctor's rumpled appearance. "You look gorgeous like this."

"Hmpf." The Doctor looks down at himself in dismay. "Need a shower, I think." But he doesn't move. His fingers drum against the floor grating. Jack waits him out. The Doctor scratches behind his ear. "This ..." He trails off again.

"Yeah?"

The Doctor shakes his head, irritably. "Nothing." A grimace. "I didn't want this."

Jack snorts. No, of course he didn't. The Doctor, letting himself lean on someone else? Yeah, right. "Complaining?" he asks lightly.

"No." Wryly. "Doesn't always matter what we want." He looks down at his lap, pokes at a fleck of come, then sticks the come-stained finger in his mouth and sucks it clean. "Hardly ever does," he corrects himself. "You should know."

He knows. But right now he has everything he could have asked for, and more.

What does the Doctor want? Rose. Donna. Martha. Everything he's lost; everything he's yet to lose. Jack isn't going to touch that on his life. He inserts a little flirtation into his tone instead. "Anything in particular you want with me? Exception to the rule, here." He bats his eyelashes outrageously.

"Exception to every rule," the Doctor grouses. A corner of his mouth goes up a little. "What I want from you? Got it, I think." He tugs an earlobe. "Don't I?"

It's all the acknowledgment he'll give for what passed between them here today. It's all the acknowledgment Jack needs. "Always."

The Doctor nods and leans forward, his eyes intense. They both know how literal that 'always' is, just how much of an exception Jack is. He's everything that shouldn't be. But he is.

"I could spend the rest of my life with you," the Doctor says carefully. It isn't an offer; far from it. It definitely isn't a statement of intent. It's a challenge.

Love's impossible desire for eternity: Jack knows it perfectly well. He nods and meets the challenge head-on. "I can't spend the rest of mine with you." He snorts with genuine, uncontrived amusement. "Not that I would. We'd strangle each other within a month."

The Doctor holds his gaze for a long moment. Then he snorts a laugh as well and relaxes, settling back against the console. "You'd just revive," he grumbles jokingly.

"Wouldn't want you to regenerate too soon, though."

They smile at each other. The air seems warmer all of a sudden. It hovers between them, palpable and electric: they've chosen their space, drawn their lines. Years, decades, centuries, millennia - Jack can't imagine they'll ever tire of each other. But two people can't be everything to each other. Not even, or perhaps especially not, two immortals. They are in each other's orbit, pulling at each other, tethered to each other by inevitable gravity. But they're each their own, too.

It's what makes this work.

Jack pushes away from the wall and crawls forward until he's straddling the Doctor. He cups the Doctor's face in his hands, brushes his tongue across the Doctor's lower lip. The Doctor wraps a hand around Jack's neck and holds him close.

~*~

Jack looks towards the door. Out there, Gwen and Ianto are waiting for him. His friends; his lover; the other half of his life. One part will always be with the Doctor.

They stand. This should be awkward, but it's not. Their arms wrap around each other; their bodies melt against each other; their mouths brush for a moment. "See you soon," Jack murmurs against the Doctor's lips.

Perhaps next time, the Doctor will meet Ianto and Gwen properly. Perhaps next time he'll linger for a bit. Or perhaps he won't. That's all right too.

Jack turns towards the door and smiles.


End file.
